


Play It Again, Anakin

by DontCallMeShirley



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Be Careful What You Wish For, Crack, Family Feels, Fix-It, Gen, Human Disaster Anakin Skywalker, Humor, Payback, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, the Force is messing with Anakin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:00:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25037380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DontCallMeShirley/pseuds/DontCallMeShirley
Summary: Upon his death, the Force sends Darth Vader/Anakin back in time to the Jedi Temple, where he will have the honor of serving as Creche Master for Obi-Wan and some friends.
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker & Luminara Unduli, Anakin Skywalker & Quinlan Vos, Bant Eerin & Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 144
Kudos: 445





	1. Chapter 1

Throwing Sheev Sidious Palpatine down the reactor shaft was quite possibly the most rewarding thing he had ever experienced in his life. 

It was a pretty good way to go out. The damage from the lightning couldn’t be fixed, and he didn’t want it to be anyways. He had saved Luke, and his anonymous sister. He had ended Palpatine. Nothing else really mattered anymore.

“I’ve got to save you!” Luke cried, but Vader--Anakin--just shook his head.

“You already have,” he said. “Tell your sister you were right.”

He felt the Force surrounding him, comforting him, as it hadn’t in so long. And there, sure enough, was Obi-Wan Kenobi, that old (beloved) bastard, come to bring him home. 

He did want to go home, to be one with the Force, but he couldn’t help stewing in a few last regrets. Regrets at how he’d missed raising his children. Regrets at what had happened between him and Obi-Wan.

And suddenly, instead of floating gently in the Force, he was being crushed, mangled, compressed. He shuddered, and the force shuddered with him. There was a blinding light, and then darkness.

****

“Is he dead?”

There was some snuffling sounds nearby, and then a sharp poke.

“He doesn’t  _ smell _ dead.”

“I’m scared,” came a soft whimper from the other side. “Let’s call Master Yaddle!”

“Already did,” said a calm voice.

Another sharp poke, and Anakin acted instinctively. He didn’t  _ like _ getting poked. He thrust out a hand and grabbed the offending object. His eyes popped open and he sat straight up, glaring malevolently at the stick wielder.

“Don’t do that!” he said sharply.

“AAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!” screamed a chorus of young voices.

He stared around the room in confusion, surprised to be surrounded by a bunch of...children?

“Scatter!” yelled a small red-headed boy, and they all leaped backward and took up defensive postures.

There was a loud tapping on the floor then. “Going on here, what is?” demanded a small green figure. She tapped her gimmer stick on the floor once more for good measure.

Anakin stared at her in incomprehension.

All the children tried talking at once, and no one could be understood. “Silence!” she commanded. “One at a time. Quinlan, tell me.”

“Well, Master Yaddle, we were working on our model of the Core Systems, and this--this person appeared on our floor,” the boy said. Everyone else nodded in confirmation. Then they all swung their attention back to Anakin.

Master Yaddle? Quinlan? He must be dreaming. He fell backward and smacked his head hard on the floor.

“Ouch,” he said.

“I told you he wasn’t dead,” said one of the children.

Master Yaddle hobbled over to him and stared down. She looked puzzled, but kind. “A mystery in the Force, you are,” she announced. “A name do you have?”

He stared back at her and blinked a few times. This  _ had _ to be a dream. Since he was in what appeared to be the Jedi Temple, he could give his old name. “Er, Skywalker. Anakin Skywalker.”

“Come along, Skywalker, Anakin Skywalker. To the halls of healing you will go,” she said gesturing.

So he got tentatively to his feet...feet. He had feet! He thrust out his arms. He had hands! And arms! Two of them! This was one of the best dreams he’d had in a long time.

He followed Master Yaddle to the Halls of Healing, marveling at his hands and feet the whole way. It was kind of weird to see the Imperial Palace as the Jedi Temple again, but he wasn’t nearly as interested in that as he was in the feeling of walking with his own legs once more. He submitted uncomplainingly to a battery of tests, spending his time running his hands through his once-again flowing locks. (Hands! Hair!)

When Master Yoda arrived, Anakin smiled down at him. “Master Yoda! You’re here too! This is one crazy dream.”

“Know me, you do. A dream you think this is?” Yoda asked. He and Master Yaddle tilted their heads and looked at him with matching expressions of interest.

“Oh yeah. But I’m enjoying it, so I don’t want it to end.”

Yoda and Yaddle looked at each other.

“Off the charts, your midichlorian count is,” said Yoda. “But records of you we do not have.”

“Hmm?” Anakin said, holding out his hands to admire his nails. “My master was Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

Yoda looked at him sharply. “Obi-Wan? He a youngling is. In the creche you just saw him, with his Hawk-Bat clan.”

“Is that right? Oh, the little red-headed boy was Obi-Wan?” Anakin thought about that. It was a funny idea, and quite frankly incomprehensible. Obi-Wan had never been a child. He was born a fully grown, insufferable, rule-following know-it-all who did nothing but cut off people’s limbs and disappear when you killed them. “Well, dreams never make sense,” Anakin said, half to himself, kicking his legs back and forth.

*****

“The future? What do you mean the future!” Anakin demanded. He stood in the middle of the Council Room. He hated it there more than ever, because the last time he’d seen it looking like the Council Room, he’d been...assisting younglings in their journey to the Force. This dream had definitely taken a turn for the worse.

“Yes, we think you are from the future,” said some rando Rodian. Anakin had no idea who this guy was, much less why he was in sitting in Obi-Wan’s chair. “Meditate with us, and we will discern the truth.”

“Fine,” said Anakin, with a hearty eye roll. He guessed he had to see this dream through, since he didn’t appear to be waking up. He sat in the center of the circle, and the masters all sat on the floor around him, laying hands on him. He breathed in and out with them, and found himself facing the light side, which he hadn’t touched for years, right up until he saved Luke.

In and out. In and out.

He reached out to the Force and...it laughed? It appeared that this was not a dream after all. It was the past all right, and the Force was up to something. 

He came out of the meditation completely bewildered. What was going on? 

“Inscrutable is the way of the Force,” Yoda said portentously. “In you, darkness there is. However, plans the Force has for you. To the creche will you go.”

Anakin’s jaw dropped open. “Creche? Me?” 

“Creche. Quarantined the Hawk-Bat Clan creche master is, for a month. Take his place you will. To be with children you need. Teach you much they can.”

He didn’t think it was possible, but his jaw dropped even further. Then he closed it. “Children? Me?” he squeaked. 

“You,” said the Jedi Council in unison.

“Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!” 


	2. Chapter 2

Everything went hazy for awhile. He heard voices but the words meant nothing. Eventually he realized he was being led somewhere. When he came to his senses he was back where he started, in that infernal crèche room.

“No, no,” he cried, and would have fled except for the gentle but firm hand on his shoulder.

He threw it off and glared at the man who dared to bring him here. Then he realized who it was and his anger turned to horror. 

“Master Windu!” he gasped. He looked quickly at the man’s hands. One, two. Good show. 

Mace Windu stared at him quizzically.

“You know me?”

Anakin let out a high-pitched giggle, then clapped a hand over his mouth. That was not very sithly. He nodded his head, even as he took a step backwards. Windu had a lightsaber, and he didn’t. What if he wanted revenge? 

But, incredibly, Windu just smiled at him. “I’m sure this is disorienting. The children are away at a lesson with Master Yaddle, she’ll introduce you to them when they return. Have you worked in a crèche before?”

Anakin shook his head. 

“But you grew up in one,” Windu said, and was surprised when Anakin shook his head again.

“I, um, I came to the Jedi late. I started as a padawan,” he explained.

Master Windu stared at him enigmatically. The council had agreed that he should not reveal too much about the future, but Windu appeared to be having second thoughts about that. “Hmm. I’ll show you around here then. The room we’re in right now is their common area. It’s for lessons and play.” 

He walked to a door and beckoned to Anakin. “This is your room. There’s a private fresher inside. Then he led him to another door. This is the efficiency kitchen, and an eating area. You can take most meals in the refectory, but every once in a while you’ll want to be here.” 

Anakin followed, but kept a respectful distance. Just in case.

“Over here is the children’s fresher, including a bath and a separate shower. And this room is their bedroom. They have individual beds but you’ll find they often migrate during the night.”

The tour concluded, Master Windu headed to the exit. He stood at the door for a moment, and looked at Anakin thoughtfully. He opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, but then closed it and shook his head. He bowed.

“May the Force be with you.”

*****

May the Force be with him! Ha!

Anakin walked to his bed and plopped down. He put his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his hands. 

“Arrrrrgh!”

What had he done to deserve this?? No, don’t answer that.

He didn’t want to work in the creche. He’d rather eat sand. He’d rather die. He was supposed to be dead. What went wrong?

He thought back to his final regrets. Not spending more time with his children. Missing Obi-Wan. How did that get combined into spending time with Obi-Wan as a child?! That was NOT what he had meant. And he refused to think about who these other children were, and what ended up happening to them. Some of them at his hands…

Not thinking about that! Not thinking about that!

_ Stay focused on the present,  _ his master used to say. His real master, not that other guy who took a quick trip down a reactor shaft. He didn’t know where to begin thinking about everything that had happened, everything that he’d done, so he wouldn’t. If he really was back in the past, and not in some crazy dream, then he hadn’t done any of those things yet. In fact, he wasn’t even  _ alive  _ yet.

That was another thought that hurt his brain, so he pushed it aside too. 

Nope, he would stay in the moment, and in this moment he had hair and hands and legs. He had lungs. He was sitting on a soft bed, and he was in a place that smelled of a home long gone. 

They say you can never go home again, but what if you could?

He laid down and stretched out. Killing an evil Sith Lord, dying, and traveling back in time were exhausting. It had been a long time since he’d laid in a bed. His eyes closed.

*****

When he woke up he was disappointed. It had been such a lovely, if somewhat bizarre, dream. He reached out a hand to open his life support pod, but his hand met only air. His eyes flew open. 

He was in the crèche. It wasn’t a dream. For a wild moment he felt his old familiar anger, his old familiar misery well up. Then it subsided. He had let it all go, finally, when he died; and he was just too tired to sustain it any longer. He was going to have to find a new path. 

And apparently the Force decided this path should involve Jedi children. And not just any old children, but  _ Obi-Wan  _ as a child. He had to admit to a growing curiosity. In the distance he heard a low murmur of voices. He approached the door cautiously and peaked out. 

The younglings were sitting in a circle on the floor, passing a ball to each other with the Force. They looked kind of bored, and he couldn’t blame them. He did a quick head count and saw there were 10 children. Mostly though his attention focused on Obi-Wan. Gosh he was little! Who would have the high ground on Mustafar  _ now _ eh? Eh!

Master Yaddle noticed him first. “Hello, Master Skywalker. A pleasant nap you had?”

Anakin tore his eyes away from Obi-Wan guiltily. “Oh, er, yes. Thank you.” 

“Younglings, this is Master Skywalker. Your creche master he will be while Master Raffi remains in quarantine,” said Master Yaddle. The children stared at him unblinkingly. It was unnerving.

“Isn’t he kind of young to be a master?” piped up one voice. There was a round of giggling.

Then another said, “Why did he just appear on our floor? Is he a ghost?”

“Oohhhh, ghost!” yelled a third, and suddenly the kids were running around making wooooo noises. 

Anakin watched in bemusement. Such foolishness.

Master Yaddle thumped her gimmer stick on the floor, and all the younglings stopped in their tracks. “Respectful, you will be. Brought him to  _ you _ , the Force did. Mindful will we be, and in time will the reasons become clear. Introduce yourselves, please.”

The little Kiffar boy stepped forward. He was the one who’d been poking him when he first appeared there. “Hi. I’m Quinlan Vos.” Of course it was Vos. He must have been born a pain in the ass.

Next was a little Miralian. “I’m Luminara Unduli.” Anakin swallowed hard. He would not think about what they did to her.  _ He would not think about it. _

“Bant Eerin.”

“Bruck Chun.”

“Garen Muln.”

“Siri Tachi.”

“Reeft.”

Anakin stopped paying attention to the names, which he was sure he’d regret later. His focus had swung back to…

“Hello there. I’m Obi-Wan Kenobi.” A beam of sunlight came from between the window blinds and lit his hair like a halo. He looked just like one of those revoltingly cute cherubs in the old Naboo Renaissance paintings that Sidious liked to collect.

Anakin gaped at him for a moment, then turned purposefully away and bowed to them all. “Pleased to, er, meet you.” Wait, was he supposed to let them know he’d come from the future? He turned in a sudden panic to look at Master Yaddle, who was smiling at him. She gave a slight shake of her head. 

Okay. Keeping that under wraps for now. He gave out a gusty sigh. Now what? He turned back to Master Yaddle, in a renewed panic.

“Master Skywalker, new to creche mastering is,” said Yaddle. As everyone puzzled out what she was trying to say, she hobbled to the center of the floor. “Start with our meditation game, we will. Help him at first I will, and you will as well. Make his time here pleasant, we shall,” she announced, sitting down and looking up expectantly at everyone else.

“Yes, Master,” came the dull reply, as the younglings filed dutifully back into their spots. They returned to their game of “pass the ball,” but it wasn’t long before Master Yaddle’s comm beeped, and she was summoned to the council chambers.

Anakin watched her leave with trepidation. He wasn’t used to not having his mask on, and only belatedly realized that the younglings could see every expression on his face. That wouldn’t do at all. He’d learned early on in the Empire that he could show no weakness. 

So he cleared his throat and stood up. “Continue as you were!” he commanded.

They did not look impressed. “Aren’t you going to play with us?” asked Luminara, her big eyes fixed on him.

“Yes, play with us!” agreed Bant, and then everyone else was chiming in.

“I know how to make this more fun!” announced Quinlan. “‘Pass the ball’ is for babies, let’s play rocket ball!”

“I don’t think--” Anakin said but before he knew it the ball went whizzing past his nose and smacked into the window, bending some of the slats in the blinds.

“I really wish--” he tried again as another child reached for it with the Force and sent it careening away. It barely missed Bant and instead knocked into a small bookshelf, sending books and datapads flying.

“Stop, I say!” he yelled while trying to right the bookshelf. No one stopped. They probably didn’t even hear him with all the racket. He hadn’t realized getting younglings under control would be so much trickier than imperial underlings. Maybe because he couldn’t force choke them this time around.

Obi-Wan got ahold of the ball and yelled “SPIKE!” as he leaped into the air with a flourish and chucked it down hard at Quinlan. Quinlan dove out of the way though, leaving Luminara square in the ball’s path.

Anakin watched in frozen horror as it struck her full in the face. There was yelling, there was crying, there was blood. A particularly loud yowl snapped him out of it, and Anakin used the Force to grab a tissue box. He hurried over to Luminara and applied a wad to her face. “Tilt your chin up,” he said, sitting her on his lap so he could do it himself. He took another wad and tried to dry her tears. “It’s okay! Don’t cry!” he pleaded.

Boy was he going to get it when Master Yaddle came back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It didn't take long for Anakin to experience the joys of uncontrolled, over-excited children.
> 
> I don't know if 10 is too many kids for a clan, it's just a nice round number. 
> 
> Hi Mace!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin gets the warm and fuzzies, and also starts to figure a few things out.

Luminara’s nose didn’t stop bleeding. Finally, Anakin realized he couldn’t wait any longer.

“I’m taking her to the Halls of Healing,” he told the younglings, who’d been standing around in a solemn circle, gaping at their fallen comrade. He caught Obi-Wan’s eye. Obi-Wan. He was always reliable. He would look after things until Master Yaddle showed up.

“Obi-Wan, you’re in charge while I’m gone.” He looked around at the others, who seemed surprised by this choice. They were probably just jealous because Obi-Wan was being given power. Well, he didn’t have time to worry about the pipsqueaks and their aspirations right now. Luminara’s nose wasn’t going to fix itself. He stood up and strode purposefully out the door, Luminara clasped tightly against his chest, blood, tears, and snot soaking his tunics.

*****

Vokara Che was there, looking surprisingly young. He goggled for a moment instead of explaining his purpose, before her no-nonsense manner snapped him out of it. Maybe he’d get used to how young everyone looked one of these days, but today was not that day. 

She led them to a med bay, and asked Anakin to lay Luminara down on the bed. But when he tried to do it, she clung to his neck and whimpered. Secretly gratified by this response he sat down on the bed, and let her stay on his lap. He wasn’t so bad at this child-caring thing after all, was he? He would have been an AWESOME father, if SOMEONE hadn’t…

“Master Skywalker, I need to see her face if I’m to determine the extent of the damage,” Master Che said with some asperity.

“Oh, uh, of course,” he replied meekly, attempting to loosen her stranglehold around his neck. “Er, Mas— Luminara, you must let go. And, umm, the Force will provide. As will Master Che.” 

Finally Luminara took her face out of Anakin’s chest and looked at the healer, who took hold of her chin and turned her face this way and that. “I’m afraid it’s broken,” she announced. “You’re going to have to let me set it.”

“Broken!” Luminara exclaimed. She seemed a little excited at this news, her discomfort temporarily forgotten. “I’b neber broken anyding before!” But when Master Che had to touch her nose the wailing resumed.

“There, there,” Anakin said, patting her awkwardly on the head. She grabbed his hand and held it tightly while her nose was taken care of. He felt a little guilty, so he let her squeeze it, but it was all he could do not to yelp. He wondered if she was using the Force to bear down. Finally, the pain medication she was given kicked in, and she fell asleep. He pulled his hand away and blew on it, hoping to relieve the throbbing. 

Well, good thing that was over. “Thank you for your assistance,” he said stiffly to Maste Che, before bending over to scoop Luminara up and take her back to the creche.

The Twilek healer gave him a forbidding look. “Not so fast, Master Skywalker. I need to keep an eye on her for a bit,” she said. “You can leave her here and return to your other charges.”

Luminara wasn’t quite asleep yet, as it turned out. Her eyes popped open. “Please stay?” she asked, looking up at Anakin with big, melting blue eyes. 

Surely do-gooder Obi-Wan and Master Yaddle had things well in hand. “Well, okay,” he agreed, and settled in at her side. It had been awhile since anyone had requested his company.

*****

Finally he was given the green light to return to the crèche, which is not something he ever thought would please him. However it was already nighttime and he was kind of looking forward to laying in bed again. He hadn’t had such a strong connection to the Force since his limbs had been freed from his body, plus everything was just so weird. He was tired.

Luminara was still sleeping, so he carried her in his arms. Her little feet peeped out beneath the hem of the nightgown Master Che had dressed her in, her head rested against his chest, her mouth hung open just a bit. He regarded her curiously. He had been moderately fond of her as an adult, despite her willingness to accept the will of the Force when danger loomed. Who knew she had been so... _ cute _ as a small person. 

Anakin opened the door to the creche and found all the lights were off. Only the glow of the city streaming in through the windows allowed him to see. Not that he needed it, he could sense all the bright little Force presences in their bedroom. So he walked in silently, and was about to set Luminara on the first available bed he found when a sleepy voice called out, “Lumi?”

Obi-Wan emerged from a pile of younglings and trotted to the bed where Anakin was placing her. “Obi,” she replied.

“I’m really sorry, Lumi,” Obi-Wan said, as he scooted in and curled around her.

“S’okay,” she said sleepily. 

Anakin stood there watching them for a minute, feeling a funny compression in his chest. He wondered if he was having a heart attack, but nothing else seemed to hurt or change so after a couple of minutes he backed out quietly, shut the door behind him, and leaned against it. He closed his eyes and heaved a great sigh. What a welcome to the past. The Force was a real pain in his ass. He wondered what it hoped to gain by these shenanigans, but was in no mood to try and figure it out at the moment. 

Then he wondered where Master Yaddle had gone off to. He was kind of surprised not to see her there, but maybe she left once they were asleep. Whatever. He was going to go to his room when it occurred to him he was hungry, so he changed course and he shuffled toward the pantry. He wondered what kind of food they had. He didn’t think he’d be too particular; anything would be novel after decades of liquid refreshment through a tube.

He flipped on a light and froze. He didn’t know where to look first. Everywhere was...a mess. Paints swirled together in interesting patterns on the floor. The chairs had been pulled together in an outward facing circle and wound about with toilet paper. Every single board game had been pulled out, and the pieces mixed together. He noticed something dangling above him and he looked up to find long strings of pasta stuck precariously to the ceiling, red sauce and all.

He closed his eyes. Surely he had imagined it. He reopened them. Nope. And that was just the beginning. Books and data pads were out of the bookshelves and were stacked haphazardly on the floor. The counters and floor around the sink were soaked. And perhaps the piece de resistance was an abstract mural on the wall by the door. He stepped closer and squinted. It was words, a long string of crossed out words. Obi sucks, with an x through it. Quin sucks, with an x through it. Across the whole wall. Anakin stared blankly at it, then purposefully looked away. If he couldn’t see it, it wasn’t there. 

As he hunted around grimly for some interesting food he thought about Obi-Wan. Obviously not the rule-following stick-in-the mud he’d remembered. He was a little impressed, a little horrified, and a whole lot annoyed. 

Finally he dug out some crackers and juice boxes, and he carted his haul back to his room and shut the door. He wasn’t interested in looking at that disaster any more. He sat in the little chair in the corner and chewed thoughtfully. 

If they weren’t with him, they were against him. This called for revenge! No, not revenge. He didn’t deal in revenge anymore. Okay then, this called for punishment! A good hard smack across the knuckles with a ruler would teach them a lesson… Oh wait, the Jedi didn’t believe in corporal punishment. So what did they do with their misbehaving younglings?

Consequences. Yes, that was it, consequences.

He popped another of the cheesy-flavored, fish-shaped crackers in his mouth. Delightful. It took some of the sting out of the condition of the creche. The creche wouldn’t look like this if Yaddle had been there. It looked like she had never come back. He had assumed she would, which was clearly an error on his part. It hadn’t occurred to him that he should call and ask for help. He wasn’t used to asking for help.

So what kind of consequences? His time with Sidious gave him nothing, Sidious was all about punishment and pain. He slurped his juice and thought further back, to his padawan days. He remembered making a mess with some mechanical project he was working on, and losing track of time until the pod race he wanted to watch was about to come on. Obi-Wan had warned him that he had to clean up before he could watch, and no amount of pleading or cajoling budged him.

Leaning back in his chair with his feet resting on the bed, he raised his juice in the direction of the kids’ bedroom and toasted Obi-Wan for giving him such a good idea. Those rugrats, led by one O. Kenobi, were going to clean up their own damn mess, and they were going to learn that Anakin Skywalker was not to be trifled with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, who knew little kids couldn't be trusted to look after themselves for long periods of time.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin and the Hawk-Bat Clan have a busy morning.

Anakin fully intended to be awake before the younglings, so he could let them know first thing that they were in trouble. However, the bed was soft, and the blankets were warm, and he slept deeply until he heard some banging and hushed whispers outside his door.

“Shhh! Don’t wake him up!”

“Well stop pushing me!”

“I didn’t push you, you pushed me!”

Anakin hopped out of bed and opened the door to find Obi-Wan and Quinlan scuffling. He leaned against the doorframe, crossed his arms over his chest, and narrowed his eyes.

“Look what you did!” Obi-Wan said, pointing accusingly at Quinlan. “You woke him up!”

“Me? YOU woke him up!”

“Nuh uh!”

“Uh-huh!”

The scuffling resumed, and Anakin shook his head in disbelief. He strode over to the two of them, and grabbed each by the back of his collar. “That’s enough! You both woke me up!” As they struggled in his grip he noticed the other younglings hovering around, and the mess looming in the background behind them. A mean smile crept over his face. “And now that we’re all up, you can start cleaning. All of you. Except Luminara, that is.”

She beamed up at him and said, “I doad mide heppin.” He smiled back to hide the fact that he had no idea what she said. 

There was some grumbling among the ranks, but no one complained out loud. Anakin, pleased with this reaction, headed to the supply closet where brooms, mops, and other cleaning supplies were stored. As he dragged them out he treated the younglings to a lecture on trust and reliability, which they listened to with a flattering attentiveness.

But then Bant, who’d been staring at him in that unnerving way that Mon Calamari people sometimes had, asked, “What’s in your hair Master Skywalker?”

“My hair?” he repeated blankly. He put his hands up on either side of his head and felt something hard and crusty on the left side. He hurried to the fresher mirror and peered closely. It was the same color as the crackers he’d been eating. He’d somehow gotten them into his hair! He picked at the orange mass but it was stuck. Ugh. This was going to require water. And soap.

He looked back to find the children had surged around him.

“What is it?” asked Siri.

“It’s a Bardottan brain sucker!” yelled Quinlan.

“It’s a Taanabian tumor!” Obi-Wan exclaimed.

“It’s not a tumor!” Anakin snapped, pressing his hand against it to hide it from their prying eyes. He scuttled away to his room, pausing in the doorway to call out, “Clean the common area! I’ll be out shortly.” And he slammed his door closed.

How embarrassing! It had been years since he’d eaten solid food, but still. He turned on the water in the shower until it was practically boiling and slid in. Oh wow, did that feel good! He zoned out for awhile, letting the water stream over him. Then he remembered his mission and tackled the cracker paste. When he was finally done shampooing and conditioning his glorious tresses, and admiring his fully formed arms and legs, he stepped out and went in search of clean clothes. He stared at the boring beige and cream tunics and leggings that awaited him. His lip curled in disgust. He was going to have to visit requisitions, but until then these would have to do. 

He stepped out of his room, refreshed and in a much better mood, and stopped short. A few books and datapads were put away, but other than that not much had changed. And to top it off, the mini Jedi were gathered around the table playing cards.

“I am most displeased with your progress!” he boomed, making them jump.

Obi-Wan hurried to his side and checked his hair. “You’re all better!”

“Why didn’t you clean!” Anakin demanded. “ Stop playing cards and clean!” 

“Master Skywalker, it’s time for breakfast, and then we have class with Master Nu,” Bant said, handing him a datapad with their schedule.

Arrrgh! he screamed in his head. “Fine,” he growled out loud. “Let’s go. But you’re going to clean when we get back!”

The younglings ran to get their boots, which mercifully were in the cubby area by the door where shoes and robes were kept, but it still took far too long. 

“Who has my boots!” demanded Reeft. 

“They’re right where you left them!” scoffed Garen. 

“Has anyone seen my other sock?” asked Bruck.

“Check your robe pocket,” Bant suggested.

Finally he got them all lined up and out the door. He got them to stay in line by making it a marching game, right into the dining hall, through the food line, and into their seats. When he finally had them all sitting and eating he slumped back in his chair and sighed. What had he done to deserve this?!

Never mind.

He had turned his attention to his food—Lothalian oatmeal, yum!—when he heard thump, thump, thump. He looked over to find Yoda smiling at him. 

“Good morning, Master Skywalker. Doing well, you appear to be,” he said. 

Anakin bared his teeth. “Thanks. We haven’t seen Master Yaddle since yesterday. Will she be joining us today?”

“Her message did you not get? Called away she has been. Off planet she is for the next week.”

“Message?” Anakin asked weakly. He noticed Obi-Wan shifting uncomfortably, and turned to face him. “Hey guys. Did anyone leave me a message yesterday?”

“Oh, didn’t we tell you? Master Yaddle called. She’ll be gone for a week,” Obi-Wan said, and smiled ingratiatingly.

Anakin frowned at him. “Gee thanks.”

Obi-Wan shrugged. “You were at the Halls of Healing. I wrote it down for you, it’s on the counter.”

“Would that be the wet countertop that is covered in water in a wet fashion?” Anakin asked grumpily.

“Errrrr...maybe?”

“Heh heh heh,” giggled Yoda. “Everything well in hand you have. Leave you to it I will,” he said, and stumped off. Anakin stared after him angrily. Well in hand? Did he say well in hand?? 

He was brought out of his sulk by a small nudge against his arm. “Master Skywalker? Can you help?” Siri was holding out her fists to him, so he instinctively reached out to take whatever it was and ended up with two handfuls of juicy Chandrilan melon. “Can you cut it for me?” she asked. He stared down at his hands, juice dripping between his fingers onto the table below, and repressed another sigh.

Well in hand indeed.

*****

Finally everyone finished their meals and got cleaned up, but now they were cutting it close for getting to Master Nu’s class in the Archives Annex. 

“Hurry kids,” Anakin said, as he pulled out the datapad to see what the class was about. Dramatic Poetry Readings. Oh brother. 

In the time he took to look at the datapad, the kids took him at his word and started to hurry.

“Too fast! Too fast” he called out, but it was too late, as they went rushing down the corridor and took the turn like they were competing in the Boonta Eve Classic.

Anakin used the Force to catch up, which gave him a front row seat for the unfolding catastrophe. There were shouts of consternation, flailing limbs, and loud thuds as the Hawk Bat Clan ran smack into two Jedi coming around the corner from the other direction. 

Anakin jumped into the fray, using the Force to haul younglings up and brush them off. Finally he reached the bottom of the pile where the adults lay. “Are you alright?” he cried out. “Don’t move, is anything broken?” And then he felt his soul leave his body. For there was Qui-Gon Jinn, sitting up, dusting himself off, and chuckling. And lying beside him on the floor was none other than Count Dooku.

“Hello little ones,” Qui-Gon said, as Luminara and Bant trotted over to help pull him up.

“We’re sorry, Master,” said Bant, with a worried frown. “We got carried away.” 

Qui Gon patted Bant on the back. “No harm done,” he said. “My name is Qui-Gon Jinn, and this person lying here is Master Dooku.” He nudged Dooku with the toe of his boot. “Aren’t you getting up Master?”

“No, I don’t think so,” said Dooku, staring malevolently at the ceiling. “I think I might be safer down here. Unless you trample helpless bodies too?”

Obi-Wan sat down next to him on the floor and said conversationally, “No, we wouldn’t do that. We didn’t mean to trample non-helpless bodies either. It’s just that we were in a hurry. We don’t want to be late for Master Nu’s Dramatic Poetry Reading class.”

Dooku sat up then and looked down his nose at Obi-Wan. “Dramatic Poetry Reading, you say. Well, you are lucky younglings. You certainly don’t want to keep Master Nu waiting.”

Qui-Gon smiled slightly, then turned to Bant. “And who might you be?”

“My name is Bant Eerin, and we’re the Hawk-Bat Clan.” She introduced each member, and then she got to Anakin. “And this is our creche master, Master Skywalker.”

Qui-Gon and Dooku both looked at him quizzically. “Pleased to meet you,” said Qui-Gon. “I don’t remember seeing you around before.”

“Uh well, I’ve been here and there. Look, sorry again about the accident, but it’s time to get to class!” he said, as he was backing away, pulling Reeft and Siri with him as he went. All the other younglings followed. 

“Goodbye Master Jinn! Goodbye Master Dooku!”

Anakin could feel sweat beading his forehead. He had forgotten all about them. What a way to be reminded.

*****

Anakin finally delivered the younglings to their poetry class, introduced himself as the temporary creche master, and leaned against the wall to recover. Finally, someone else could be in charge of those menaces for a minute.

He’d perfected the art of dozing with his eyes open during his own apprenticeship with Obi-Wan, and he put that talent to good use now. The younglings were reciting poetry, and that was not, but not his bag. 

Reeft was up first.

_ I think I shall never see _

_ A poem as lovely as a tree _

Nope, his disinterest in poetry had not changed. He drifted off.

He woke up when Obi-Wan began. Even as a child his voice was commanding. The poem he chose was oddly depressing. Or maybe not so oddly, considering what happened to him as an adult. Anakin shifted uncomfortably. 

_ I had a dream, which was not all a dream. _

_ The bright sun was extinguish'd, and the stars _

_ Did wander darkling in the eternal space... _

Anakin shook himself as though he could shake off the depressing feelings, and realized they were almost done with the class. Thank goodness. Only Quinlan was left. Quinlan rose from his seat and sauntered to the front of the room. Anakin suddenly had a bad feeling about this.

Quinlan struck a pose.

_ Holy Moses! Have a look! _

_ Flesh decayed in every nook! _

_ Some rare bits of brain lie here, _

_ Mortal loads of beef and beer! _

Master Nu leaped to her feet, ready to cut him off, but he evaded her grasp and kept belting out his atrocious poem. When he was finished he gave them a deep bow, followed by a deep curtsy. 

“Um. Thank you very much Quinlan,” she said, giving him the eye, but the younglings were howling with laughter. Anakin buried his face in his hands. Why him?!

Never mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anakin is having fun now, isn't he? He is a little off kilter still, but I suspect he will get a better handle on things soon. Also, things are already starting to change for everyone.
> 
> The poems:  
> Joyce Kilmer, "Trees"  
> Lord Byron, "Darkness"  
> Amanda McKittrick Ros, "On Visiting Westminster Abbey"


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin and the younglings make some home repairs and forge a better understanding of each other.

Anakin was more than ready to leave Master Nu’s class, and he lunged for the door with unseemly haste. The younglings, following his lead, piled up excitedly behind him which stopped him in his tracks. He did NOT want another Qui-Gon and Dooku incident. He turned around and bared his teeth at them while his brain raced furiously. They smiled back. 

Suddenly an idea struck. Dun dun dun, dun-dun-dun, dun-dun-dun, he hummed to himself, remembering how the younglings had enjoyed marching around the dining hall that morning. “Okay, people. It’s time to return to the creche, and we’re going to play a game. You’re going to be soldiers, and I’m going to be your general, leading you to battle.” Kids like games, and Anakin knew how to handle soldiers.

However, all he got was a lot of frowns. “Jedi aren’t soldiers,” said Bant disapprovingly. Everyone else nodded.

“It’s a game,” Anakin said. “A pretend game. Where you pretend you’re soldiers.” What was  _ wrong _ with these kids? 

“I don’t like that game,” said Siri.

Anakin was about to insist, in rising tones, when Obi-Wan floated over beside him and tugged on his sleeve.

“What if we pretend to be negotiators, on our way to help a planet before it needs soldiers?” he asked. Negotiators?? Anakin sneered, but to his surprise the younglings were all on board.

“I’m the lead negotiator!” claimed Quinlan.

“I want to be a negotiator princess!” said Reeft.

They sorted themselves out, and soon they were walking sedately down the hall, chins up, the weight of negotiating resting on their small shoulders. Obi-Wan started humming, then singing, a Jedi High Galactic chant.

_ Pie Jesu domine, dona eis requiem... _

Anakin, who was walking behind everyone, gave him a hard stare. Somehow, even after everything from betrayal to murder to time travel, it felt like they were still oddly in sync. Obi-Wan’s chant was not that far off from a march, but there was something familiar about it, something that gave Anakin the feeling it was a bit of a joke. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it though, so he just shrugged. Obi-Wan wouldn’t be in a joking mood anymore once they got back to the crèche and he had to start cleaning. Again.

The younglings filed nicely into the suite, and faced Anakin, who moved out in front of them and stood at parade rest. “Attention, negotiators. We’ve arrived at the planet we need to help, and as you can see, it is a mess. It’s up to you to sort things out and put them in order. The planet’s well being depends on you!”

“What’s the name of the planet?” asked Bruck.

“The name of the planet?” Anakin repeated.

“Yes, the name of the planet that we’re helping!” chimed in Obi-Wan. 

He stared out at their expectant faces, at a loss. Finally he said, “Luketopia?” 

“Luketopia!” Quinlan shouted. “We must help Luketopia!”

“We must, but we must do it quietly,” Anakin said, cringing. It was amazing how much louder everything was without a muffling helmet and crisped ears. “Luketopia doesn’t approve of yelling. Quinlan and Obi-Wan, you wash the paint off the wall--it’s...it’s graffiti. The two sides won’t talk to each other until it’s gone.”

They nodded. That sounded reasonable to them.

“Bant, you and Garen are tall. You can clean the ceilings. That’s...that’s the heights of cooperation that we want to reach.”

Damn, he was so slick he sometimes amazed even himself.

Soon he had assigned everyone a task, and was about to sit down and bask in self-congratulations when he saw that all of the younglings were struggling, and were going to require some help. First he had to get the pasta off the ceiling, as Garen and Bant were not, in fact, tall enough to reach it. Then he had to scrub it. There was still a stain, so it was going to have to be repainted. He looked over at Obi-Wan and Quinlan’s handiwork. It was much better, but it was also going to have to be repainted.

He sighed, then wandered over to where Luminara was helping Reeft and Siri scrub the cabinets where the water had spilled over. It had clearly been an error on his part not to clean that up as soon as he’d seen it, because the doors and frame had swollen and warped, and no longer fitted properly. He sat down on the floor beside the cabinets, and ran his hands along them. They were unfortunately beyond repair at this point, but the wood felt warm and inviting under his fingertips. He supposed he could order new ones, but...but what if he rebuilt these instead? With these younglings? Jedi were encouraged to work with their hands, and it’s something he could possibly do with them that was at least somewhat safe.

He looked up and caught the gleam in Quinlan’s eyes. Maybe safe wasn’t the right word. He would just have to be careful who he let use the saws.

*****

After they had cleaned, Anakin rooted around the pantry until he came across some lunch fixings that he slapped together in a hurry. The younglings eyed the spam and relish sandwiches suspiciously, but munched on them anyway. They didn’t have time to go to the dining hall, and they had a math class they needed to get to. 

Anakin wedged himself into the back of the classroom, and as the teacher droned on about cosines and tangents, he daydreamed about his restoration projects. He was going to need to measure the cabinets and figure out how much paint they needed. Then it would be time for a trip to the hardware supply depot and the carpentry shop. 

When they returned to the creche he pulled out the measuring tape he’d seen in the supply closet and got to work.

“What are you doing, Master Skywalker?” asked Obi-Wan, who had been following him around so closely that when Anakin stopped, Obi-Wan ran into the back of him.

“Measuring. We have to repaint,” Anakin said, righting the boy and patting him absentmindedly on the head. “And we have to repair the cabinetry. And you all will be helping me.”

He was somewhat surprised by the enthusiasm of the younglings. Huh. What do you know. Well, that made everything easier because he was going to make them come anyway.

It turned out that they’d never been to the carpentry shop and hardware supply depot before. They were fascinated with all the nails and screws and tools to be found. Anakin talked to the Jedi in charge and explained what he needed, and the dimensions, while the kids prowled up and down the aisles. 

Each youngling was allowed to select one paint color, so they could put sample patches on the walls, and everyone would vote on which was best. He, of course, would have the final say. Perhaps a tasteful black, or a fiery red...

Next they explored the wood veneers, stone countertops, and cabinetry hardware. That was even more fun. No one could agree on those either, so they grabbed a boxful of samples to take back to the crèche.

Anakin couldn’t remember being this happy about a project in a long time.

*****

The younglings were busy painting their chosen color on a section of wall, and Anakin was laying out the veneer and countertop samples on the big table, when he heard a buzzing sound. 

“The door!” yelled Quinlan, and he and Obi-Wan raced to see who could answer it first. Obi-Wan beat him to the push button, but Quinlan pounced on the visitor first.

“Master Yoda! Come see what I did! Come!” demanded Quinlan, tugging him toward his paint patch. Yoda squinted at the psychedelic yellow paint and nodded sagely.

“Suits your aura, that does,” he said, before moving on to Obi-Wan, who was jumping up and down excitedly. He had selected a bright, clear turquoise blue.

“It’s a desert sky! And the tan carpet is the desert!” he explained. Then he elaborated, “It’s the right color for Luketopia. And for Master Skywalker.”

Yoda tilted his head and watched Anakin thoughtfully. “Luketopia?” he asked.

“It’s our planet where we have been sent to negotiate,” Obi-Wan explained, gesturing around the room.

Anakin, for his part, was too stunned to speak. How the sith did the child know? But that was Obi-Wan for you. Mysterious even as a pipsqueak. He watched as Obi-Wan continued to bounce on the balls of his feet. An overexcited pipsqueak. Who knew things he shouldn’t.

Yoda continued to move along the line, commenting here and there on each child’s selection, but Anakin kept looking at Obi-Wan. Finally Yoda reached the end of the gallery, and turned to face the children.

“Very nice choices, you have all made,” he said. “Very nice. And how will you pick which one?”

“We’ll vote!” said Bant. “I vote for Obi-Wan’s for the ceiling. A chorus of ahhs echoed around the room. 

“And I say Siri’s for the walls! It’s tan, like the desert! Like Obi-Wan said!” said Garen. A murmur of agreement met this statement.

“All settled it is then,” said Yoda. “A desert palette, for Luketopia.”

“And for Mathter Skywalker ahd Obi-Wan,” said Luminara, her broken nose still making it difficult to understand her.

“Hmmm,” hummed Yoda noncommittally. 

Anakin stared down, and was surprised to find himself hoping against hope that it wasn’t true. That Luke and Obi-Wan wouldn’t be relegated to the desert. Not again.

*****

They ate dinner in the dining hall, using their marching technique as before, and then had a sparring practice afterward. The sparring practice would have been a disaster if they’d been using actual lightsabers instead of wooden sticks. As it was he had to find the tweezers to pull splinters out of his leg and Quinlan’s hand, and he sent everyone else to take a shower and get in their nightclothes. Stick a fork in him, he was done.

The younglings, on the other hand, were not done. One by one they came out seeking a snack, some water, the answer to a question. Finally Obi-Wan said, “Master Skywalker, can you sing to us? Master Raffi always sings us a song.”

All the other younglings agreed heartily with this suggestion. They liked Master Raffi’s songs, especially the one about the bay! Anakin was stumped though. He couldn’t think of any songs. He hadn’t had any music in his heart for a long time. “No, I don’t know any songs,” he finally said gruffly. 

The younglings were not deterred.“How about a story instead?” Quinlan asked. Everyone else jumped up and down, demanding a story. 

Anakin realized that agreeing was the path of least resistance, and he just needed this day to end. “Fine. But you have to get in bed first.” 

He walked over to the bookshelf, but Obi-Wan said, “Master Skywalker, can you tell us about you and the desert?”

Anakin stared at him, this strange yet familiar child who he both knew and didn’t know. Finally he said, “How did you know I’m from a desert planet?” Obi-Wan just shrugged. Anakin shook his head and closed his eyes. “I was born on Tatooine. Do you know it?” No one did, so he turned on the holoprojector and pulled up an image of the Arkanis sector, so he could point it out. “It is a desert planet with two suns, and fierce sandstorms. And the sky is the exact color Obi-Wan selected.” 

The children let out a large, contentended sigh. This was already a good story. They quickly climbed into their beds so that Master Skywalker would continue.

Anakin found that it didn’t hurt as much as he’d thought to talk about it. “I was born there,” he repeated. “And lived there until I was nine. My mother and I were slaves.” The children gasped in horror, but he didn’t really hear them, caught up in his memories. “But my life wasn’t horrible. My mother...my mother was so good. She loved me and made me feel safe. She taught me to care about others.”

“How did the Jedi find you?” asked Obi-Wan, concerned. Anakin looked at him and smiled. How funny that he should ask that. “A Jedi master and his padawan were in a damaged ship that landed on Tatooine for repairs.” With that he got up and turned out the light, ignoring pleas for more of the story. 

“Nope, that’s it for tonight,” he said. “See you tomorrow.” 

It had been another exhausting day, and Anakin tumbled into bed and dozed off immediately. But his dreams were filled with happy memories of his mother, and of the kind but sad man who took him under his wing after they both had lost so much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pie Jesu domine, dona eis requiem is from a Gregorian chant and it means Our Lord Jesus, let them rest. It's ALSO the chant used in Monty Python's Holy Grail when the monks are walking through the town of plague victims and bonking themselves on the head with boards.
> 
> Anakin's march is the Imperial March from Star Wars.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin starts getting the hang of taking care of younglings. Or does he?

Anakin began to get the hang of their routine, and one of the first things he learned was that he had to set his alarm. If he didn’t, the younglings got up before him and did things. 

Sometimes those things were good, or mostly good, like when they made him Takodana Toast. He reminded himself repeatedly of what a nice gesture that was as he bent over the sink, using the Force to scrub the blackened pan and scrape dried, crusty eggshells out of the rug.

Sometimes those things were not as good. One morning he must have turned off his alarm accidentally, for when he awoke the sun was streaming in through the blinds. Uh oh. He sat up quickly and listened. Nothing. But there was something in the Force...he dressed hurriedly then crept to the younglings’ room and pressed his ear against the door intently. He could hear muffled giggles and exclamations and an odd noise that he didn’t recognize, and then a sudden shushing sound. He slid the door open and saw the kids standing in a row, smiling huge, fake smiles at him. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. 

“Good morning younglings,” he said, stepping into the room. 

“Good morning Master Skywalker,” they sing-songed back. 

“What are you doing in here?” he asked, walking around the perimeter. 

“Getting ready,” said Obi-Wan, stepping forward and taking Anakin by the hand. “How are you today Master Skywalker? How did you sleep? I didn’t wake up at all! Your hair sure is curly! Can we go to the dining hall? I’m starving! I’m going to have eggs today! What are you going to have?” As he attempted to absorb this onslaught of words the rest of the younglings surged toward him, surrounding them and moving them all forward and out of the room. 

“Yes, yes! So hungry!” they all clamored. And the next thing he knew Obi-Wan had tugged him out of the creche while the rest of the children grabbed their boots and hurried to join them.

They were obviously up to something, he decided, but he didn’t have time to think much about it because they were all talking to him and at him until he couldn’t think straight. No matter. He’d get to the bottom of their duplicity in good time. 

*****

It wasn’t until they entered Master Drallig’s lightsaber classroom though that Anakin was distracted from the line of questioning he had begun in the creche. A gentle sweat broke out on his forehead. He had meant not to come in here. Usually he just dropped them off at the door and skedaddled. 

“Are you hot, Master Skywalker?’ asked Luminara, peering up at him with concern. She handed him a neatly folded handkerchief from her pocket, and he used it to mop his brow. 

“I’m fine, thanks,” he said, in a strangled voice, as he watched Master Drallig hand out practice sabers. He didn’t like to see the younglings around actual lightsabers, it brought up unpleasant memories. But that was the past. The actual past, not this past. This past was before that past. Wasn’t it?

The younglings got into position, and followed Master Drallig’s instructions closely. Anakin summoned up all of the meditation lessons he’d suffered through as a padawan, and breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth. Nose, mouth. Nose, mouth. 

He was so busy thinking about his nose and his mouth that he didn’t immediately notice Qui Gon and Dooku watching through the big plate glass window. The younglings had noticed them though, and they were whispering and waving enthusiastically. Finally Obi-Wan marched over to the door and threw it open. 

“Come in Masters! Don’t be shy. Welcome,” he proclaimed grandly, as though he were the miniature prince of a realm and Qui-Gon and Dooku were visiting dignitaries come to ask for a favor. Anakin, distracted by Obi-Wan's panache, smothered a smile.

Qui-Gon and Dooku, looking both surprised and charmed, entered the classroom. Qui-Gon bowed to Master Drallig.

“Pardon us for intruding, Cin,” said Jinn smoothly. “We were passing by and saw the Hawk Bat Clan through the window. We are old friends, and were wondering if they would mind if we joined them.” He winked at the kids, who were practically vibrating with excitement.

Dooku didn’t look quite as interested, Anakin thought, his long snooty nose stuck up in the air. But as he continued to watch the old coot he noticed that he was indeed interested, only pretending not to be. Well well.

“What do you think, younglings? Would you like Masters Jinn and Dooku to join you? They are two of the best duelists in the Order,” asked Master Drallig.

“Yes sir!” they yelled, attempting, and failing, to maintain a Jedi-like decorum. It wasn’t every day that new, fancy masters appeared in your class.

Jinn and Dooku dropped their robes with a flourish, and proceeded to join the younglings as they moved through their forms. Then they broke the kids into smaller groups so they could practice some moves. 

Anakin watched them suspiciously. Those guys were obviously up to something. He’d get to the bottom of their duplicity in good time. Hmm, that sounded familiar. Well, he would just add it to his list of cases he needed to crack.

When the class was almost over Anakin leaped to his feet, ready to hustle his charges away, until Obi-Wan piped up. “Pardon me, masters. Is there any chance you might give us a demonstration?” He opened his eyes wide and tilted his head to the side, looking so ridiculously cute that it gave Anakin the direst of forebodings. He gave the boy a hard stare, but Obi-Wan wasn’t looking at Anakin. He had his baby blues trained firmly on Masters Jinn and Dooku.

“Well...okay,” Jinn agreed. “But I think this room is too small. Let’s go next door.”

They all trooped to the next salle over, which was much larger. The two masters bowed to each other.

“I hope you got a good night’s sleep old man, you’re going to need it to keep up,” said Jinn as they began circling each other. 

But Dooku just smirked. “Are you sure you’re ready to leave the kids’ table and join the grownups?” The younglings giggled and Anakin facepalmed. All those children needed was more sass.

Jinn laughed and then the fight began. Anakin was familiar with their styles; had he not fought Dooku numerous times, and seen Qui-Gon fight Maul? Well, their duel was nothing like that. They were much younger for one thing, and were obviously very familiar with each other’s fighting styles. But beyond that was the fondness. Dooku was fond of Qui-Gon. Dooku. Fond. 

He looked over at Obi-Wan who was watching the duel raptly. He could see some of Obi-Wan’s style in the way they moved. He supposed that made sense. And of course the child was just as captivated by their bantering as he was by their gymnastics. 

If Obi-Wan was to become the excellent (and sassy) Jedi that he was always meant to be, did he still need to be Qui-Gon’s (please not Dooku’s) apprentice? Was he angling for a future apprenticeship? Anakin couldn’t remember how they came to be joined up, nor who the rest of his charges had apprenticed to. 

He felt a growing sense of discomfort. Was it...jealousy? Nah, couldn’t be. Anyway, Obi-Wan was far too young to become anyone’s padawan. And he comforted himself with that thought as he waited for the duel to wind down. They had a free period next, and he was anxious to leave lightsabers and grabby masters behind, and get back to the carpentry shop. Things always made more sense when he was working with his hands.

When Qui-Gon and Dooku had fought to a draw, the younglings burst into raucous applause and surrounded the pair. Anakin jumped to his feet and edged toward the door. Hmmph. What was so great about Dooku and Jinn anyway? He could outfight both those guys with his hands tied behind his back. Okay, maybe that wasn’t a great thought.

As he gathered up the children he said loudly, “Thank you both, that was very...capable of you. If you’ll excuse us…” 

“Master Skywalker, will you duel next time?” asked Obi-Wan. 

Anakin looked at him disapprovingly. Haha, no, he thought. “Maybe,” he said.

He’d finally gotten the younglings out into the hall when Siri whined that she’d forgotten her robe. Anakin rolled his eyes but went back in to get it. Dooku and Qui-Gon, who were speaking with Master Drallig, watched him with a quick bow and a curious air. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of that.

***** 

Anakin was still thinking about Dooku and Qui-Gon, and their duel, as he worked on the cabinets. They’d made a lot of progress on their renovations. The painting in their quarters was progressing nicely, and the framing for the cabinets has already been installed. He was just finishing up the staining on the doors and faces. 

“Master Skywalker, what can we bring for our sculpture class?” asked Garen. 

Anakin stared at him blankly. “Sculpture class?” he repeated. “What do you mean?”

“We’re supposed to bring found objects,” said Garen. 

“Found objects?” Anakin asked, starting to feel like a parrot. “You mean you’re supposed to bring objects for your class that starts in…” he looked at his chronometer. “45 minutes?” He could feel his blood pressure going up. “What kind of objects? Why didn’t you mention this sooner?”

Garen just shrugged and watched him patiently. Anakin practiced his deep breathing again. Nose, mouth! Nose, mouth! He turned to Bant, who was sitting nearby. “What kind of objects, Bant?”

“Ones that we found,” she explained slowly, as though he were hard of hearing. “Master Aalto sent you a message about it.”

A message? Hah, he never remembered to check his messages. He laid down his rag and rubbed his temples. Why him?! Never mind.

“Are you supposed to carve objects? Put objects together to create sculpture? I need a little something to go on here!” His voice was getting louder, so he took a moment to breathe again. Nose, mouth.

Bant shrugged. “Whatever we want,” she said.

“And have you been looking around for objects?” Anakin asked pointedly.

“No.”

“Any of you?”

Everyone shook their heads. “I think we’ve been more interested in our renovation project,” Obi-Wan said, after looking around at everyone. “At least I have.”

Everyone nodded. Anakin was flattered and pleased, but they still had to come up with something. He looked around the room as though an idea might come walking up to him and bid him good day--and then an idea came walking up to him and bid him good day. Aha.

“Why don’t you use items from the renovation then?” Anakin asked. Everyone’s faces lit up. “Go on, look around the carpentry shop. Think about items back in the creche. If any of you want to go to the creche and get something, go ahead.”

“Can I have a piece of wood from the old cabinets?” Obi-Wan asked. 

“Me too!” chimed in Luminara. 

“And can I have some of the old hinges and pulls?” asked Quinlan. 

“I want paint!” cried Bant.

“Me too!” Garen said.

“Okay, okay,” said Anakin. “Get whatever you want, and line it up by the doors. Bant and Garen, you’ll have to go back to the creche for the paint. Meet us back here in 15 minutes.” 

“Yes Master!” they cried as they rushed out the door.

Anakin watched the rest of them dart around the room, looking for items and considering their options. No wonder he was sleeping so well at night. Every minute with these children was exhausting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The "capable" comment comes from Phantom Menace. Qui-Gon called Obi-Wan capable in the council meeting where he was trying to ditch him and take Anakin as his apprentice.
> 
> We'll find out in later chapters what everyone is up to. I know where I'm ending up with this story (mostly), but I'm taking a meandering path to get there. It entertains me to have Anakin try to keep ahead of the younglings.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The younglings continue to worm their way into Anakin's heart, while Dooku and Qui-Gon have found another prophecy.

Anakin wasn’t required to stay at the Force sculpture class with the younglings. He brought them to the door, made sure they had their supplies, then slipped out of the room, a sense of profound peace stealing over him as the door shut. He closed his eyes and breathed in blissfully, enjoying the moment.

When he opened his eyes again he let out a muffled shriek. Yoda had materialized in front of him and completely caught him off guard. How had he managed to sneak up like that?!

Anakin hid his annoyance as best as possible, and gave a polite bow. “Good afternoon Master Yoda. Were you looking for me?”

Yoda smiled wisely. He had a silly side he liked to indulge, but today he was all Jedi business. “Indeed, Master Skywalker. Wondering if join me for meditation you could.”

“Oh?” Anakin was both suspicious and flattered. Suspicion won. “This isn’t about the future, is it? Because I don’t think I should tell anyone what happens,” he announced firmly. He was afraid that if he did he’d be marched off to the brig and locked away for the rest of his unnatural life. Or worse, turned out of the Temple on his ear. 

“Agree with you, I do. Unwise it would be to share the future. No, a meditation partner I need,” Yoda said. “Struggling today I am.”

Anakin’s eyebrows met his hairline. Struggling? Yoda? Him? Then they lowered into a scowl, before he relaxed and smiled. “I’m struggling too. How did you know?” He had the feeling Yoda could see right through him. What the hell, he probably could, literally and figuratively. Who knew what kind of crazy Force powers the little frog had.

“A confusing turn of events you have lived,” Yoda said kindly.

“You can say that again,” Anakin muttered. “Well, shall we?” he gestured vaguely at the direction back to Yoda’s quarters. 

But Yoda lifted his arms up to Anakin. “A ride you can give me,” he said. Anakin knelt obligingly and lifted his great grandmaster onto his back. “Have tea first we will. Then meditation.”

As they walked along Anakin swallowed down a mixture of awe and fear. The awe was for how Yoda seemed to know everything. The fear was that Yoda might one day really know everything. Okay, and maybe there was also some fear for what he might try to feed him. Even for a boy who’d grown up a slave on a desert planet, Yoda’s food choices were highly suspect.

*****

Luckily the tea Yoda served was just tea, and normal black tea too--not swamp water. They talked a bit about what Anakin was doing with the younglings, and how he liked it. It was small talk, but it did the job and put Anakin at ease. 

The meditation was simple, and he found the experience more soothing than he would have expected. When he opened his eyes he was oddly relaxed. Until he looked at the clock and saw the time.

“1600 hours! Holy Shiraya, what were you thinking, keeping me here so long!” Anakin demanded, jumping up and snatching his robe. “The younglings’ class was over hours ago, and you have NO IDEA what happens when they are unsupervised!”

Yoda giggled, and Anakin spared a moment to glare at him before pelting out the door. He thought many highly uncomplimentary things about Yoda as he hurried back to the creche, hoping against hope that they were just playing or reading or doing a project, or something, anything, that wasn’t destructive.

When he arrived at the creche he leaned his forehead against the wall for a moment. Then he braced himself and opened the door.

The younglings were there, and they were busy...painting the main room. They were finishing up the walls and ceiling, and they had even added a mural. Supervising them was Master Windu. Anakin slumped against the doorframe in relief, then quickly jumped back to make sure he wasn’t getting paint on himself.

“Master Skywalker! You are back!” yelled Obi-Wan, rushing toward him, paintbrush outstretched. Anakin quickly grasped him by the shoulders and held him back before he could color him turquoise.

Everyone else ran over too, exclaiming and brandishing their own rollers and brushes.

“Hello younglings,” he called out loudly, holding up a hand to get them to stop. “Allow me to inspect your work. It looks most impressive.” He walked slowly around the room to admire their handiwork. He let out a slow whistle. He didn’t have to pretend, they really were doing a good job. 

The walls were shades of tan most of the way up, until they hit the horizon line and became blue. The ceiling was dark blue and spangled with tiny luminescent stars. Painters tape was used with abandon to protect things like the baseboard and the lights. On the longest wall was the beginnings of a mural. Anakin stepped closer to see it and felt his heart contract painfully. It was a desert oasis, with palm trees and a small body of water. In the foreground he saw the people and animals being sketched in. And in the distance was a hut that looked like the hut where Luke had grown up. The Lars hut. He didn’t even have to ask--he knew Obi-Wan had painted it. 

He turned to Master Windu, who smiled. 

“It was all their idea. They wanted to surprise you, so they asked Master Yoda for help,” he said.

Anakin nodded. His eyes felt itchy and his throat tight, and he was unable to speak. Must be allergies, he thought. Probably to the paint.

*****

This unexpected surprise kept his mind fully occupied, and it wasn’t until he awoke the following morning that he remembered the Secret of the Excited Children, and their mysterious behavior the previous day. 

Heh heh heh, now was his chance to solve the mystery. Anakin crept out of bed and army-crawled to their door. They weren’t awake yet, he could sense their slumber in the Force. He stuck his fingernail into the crack along the edge of the door and slowly, slowly pulled it open. 

It was a little hard to tell what was happening in there. There were mounds of bodies and blankets and pillows scattered around. He could hear deep breathing and even a raspy snore. That didn’t sound like a normal youngling noise. Seemed like one of them might require a trip to the infirmary. And there was something in the Force...

The snores stopped suddenly, and Anakin saw two bright eyes staring at him through the gloom. There was a tense silence, then heavy panting. 

What the...Anakin wondered before the silence was split with impassioned yipping and an eight-legged creature sprang at him, bowling him over in surprise..

“Aaahhh!” screamed Anakin.

“Aaahhh!” screamed the younglings.

“Awwooooo!!” howled the...voorpak? What the sith was a voorpak doing in the younglings’ room?

Anakin plucked the voorpak off his neck and stood up, holding the creature out at arm’s length. He looked at it, perplexed. “How did he get in here?” The voorpak began wiggling his back end and licking Anakin’s fingers. Anakin smiled. He scratched the animal’s head and was rewarded with more wiggling and licking. He pulled it against his chest and received a big slobbery lick on his chin.

Finally, he looked up at the younglings. “Well? How did he get in here?” he repeated, brows raised.

The younglings looked nervous. Finally, Obi-Wan cleared his throat and stepped forward. “Quinlan and I found him outside.”

“When?” Anakin asked. “Last night?”

Quin and Obi-Wan eyed each other. “Umm, about a month ago?”

“A month ago?! He’s been here this whole time?” Anakin though for a minute. That was before he even got here! “Did Master Raffi know?”

“Ummm...no?” Quin said. “Well, he knew we found Sir Barksalot outside, and brought him to the Temple clinic.”

Oh yeah...Anakin had forgotten all about the veterinary clinic. Abandoned animals, especially those who were kind of soured by life, were brought to the Jedi instead of other rescue centers on Coruscant. He had been fascinated by it when he first arrived in the Temple, but soon lost interest in his quest to be best at All The Things, by which he meant lightsaber combat. An unworthy ambition, as it turned out. 

He cleared his throat and handed the voorpak (Sir Barksalot?) over to Obi-Wan. “Has he—how have—what does—“ He rubbed a hand over his eyes and tried again. “Has he been staying in the crèche during the day?”

“No, we take him back to the clinic during the day,” Obi-Wan said. “We don’t want him to be lonely while we’re gone.” Everyone else nodded vigorously.

“His friend, Princess Puffy Pants, is in the clinic,” explained Luminara.

Quinlan rolled his eyes. “Luminara, you’re not allowed to name the animals anymore! We are not calling her Princess Puffy Pants!”

Luminara looked indignant and was about to respond when Anakin intervened. “I’m surprised the master in charge of the animal clinic is allowing you to ‘borrow’ this voorpak without your crèche master’s approval.” He was also surprised that the younglings had managed the transport of the animal between the creche and the clinic without him cluing in. He obviously needed to pay closer attention. 

The younglings looked guilty and shuffled around. “Padawan Fisto thought it would be okay,” Luminara said.

Padawan Fisto? As in Kit Fisto? But he wasn’t a veterinarian, Anakin thought confusedly, when Obi-Wan piped up.

“He’s doing a rotation there this quarter.” 

The two of them blinked at each other for a moment, then Anakin strengthened his shields and sighed. Sir Barksalot began grooming Obi-Wan’s face and the boy giggled. Anakin sighed again.

“We’ll go visit the clinic before your morning classes,” he said. His intent was to return the voorpak to the clinic so it could find a permanent home, and he retreated to his room so as best to ignore the pleading expressions and hopeful vibes in the Force. He definitely wasn't going to think about his own memories of wanting a pet as a child too. 

*****

“Master Yoda, we wish to speak with you about a matter of great importance,” Dooku announced pompously. He and Qui-Gon had arrived at Yoda’s meditation rooms unannounced, but Yoda welcomed them in as though he had been expecting them. 

“Yes, yes, to hear this thing of great importance I want,” he said, climbing up on a meditation tuft and gesturing to them to do the same.

“Qui Gon and I have been working in the archives,” Dooku began. 

“Ah,” said Yoda. “Another prophecy have you found?”

Dooku frowned and Qui-Gon looked nonplussed. 

“Yes,” Dooku said shortly. He gestured to Qui Gon, who pulled out a datapad and began reading.

“This is a prophecy from a Master named Granus on Jedha, a millenia ago,” Qui-Gon said. He cleared his throat. “‘For unto you shall come again a golden being, who is neither young nor old; and they shall join the young …’ and here it appears as though someone spilled liquid on the original document,” he explained. He showed a close-up image of the page, which was wrinkled and covered in an ink stain. “However, after careful study we believe it says, ‘for from the air they shall free us from darkness, for they are the Mist Slakers.’”

Dooku and Qui-Gon watched Yoda expectantly. Yoda stared back at them, puzzled. When he said nothing Dooku prompted him, “Well? What do you think?”

Yoda raised his eyebrows. “Mist Slakers?”

“Well, we’re not sure what that part means,” Qui-Gon said defensively. “Yet. But the rest of it--doesn’t it remind you of someone?”

“Reminds YOU of someone it does. Revealed your opinion is,” Yoda said.

Dooku snorted impatiently. “Surely you see it. It’s Skywalker, the creche master. No one knows who he is, he just showed up one day. But his presence in the Force is blinding.”

“And he is with younglings!” added Qui-Gon excitedly.

Yoda steepled his fingers together and regarded them thoughtfully. “Apply to many people that could,” he finally said. “However, special Skywalker is. Help him you can. Help him, and his younglings. Keep an eye on them all you shall.”

Dooku looked taken aback. “Wait, I…”

Yoda picked up his gimer stick and brandished it playfully in Dooku’s direction. “Interested in Skywalker you are. Help him you will. Only then will the truth of your prophecy you learn.”

Dooku bared his teeth and bowed. “Er. Thank you Master.” He had gone in looking for gossip--make that information--and had gotten more than he’d bargained for. He was not completely displeased though. Skywalker was a fascinating specimen, and some of those younglings were rather engaging.

But Qui-Gon looked gratified, and said as much. “I have a good feeling about this,” he told Dooku, rubbing his hands together as they exited Yoda’s quarters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anakin loves his little younglings! And now new and improved with a pet. On the cartoon "Resistance" one of the characters had a pet Voorpak, that's how I decided on the animal. 
> 
> Probably the last part about Dooku and Qui-Gon sounds ominous, but it's not. They're going to be helpful, or at least try to be helpful. The prophecy was vaguely inspired by Monty Python's "Life of Brian".

**Author's Note:**

> I wonder how Anakin is going to like being the Creche Master for Obi-Wan, Quinlan Vos, Luminara Unduli, and Bant Eerin. The Force deliberately misunderstood when he was thinking about raising children. On purpose. As payback.
> 
> I may add other people to the clan as I remember them. Feel free to suggest anyone you'd like to see show up. Obi-Wan is going to be 7 or 8, I think. Also, if anyone knows the actual name of Obi-Wan's clan, let me know, I'm happy to change it. However, pirates and gangs use the Hawk-Bat name, and I felt that would be appropriate for any group involving Quinlan Vos and young Obi-Wan.


End file.
